


Scripture

by arbitraryspace



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitraryspace/pseuds/arbitraryspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so it was written, and so it shall come to pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scripture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laylah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/gifts).



The angels come by ones and twos, at first, and then in great ragged flocks, jostling for roosting space in the Mantra's broken tower. Chiaki quicky learns that there is no use trying to talk sense to the lower orders. Their bodies are photoshop-perfect, but their minds are little sharper than that of the average homing pigeon. Instict is what draws them to the power of her Reason. Nothing less. Nothing more.

They learn to stop tugging at her clothing when she ruins the wings of a particular annoyance, snapping a bone for each floor that she must visit to drive her point into their pretty little heads. The onlookers clutch their chains, so recently shorn, and croon their longing for the weight of a lock. That is how Chiaki knows they are happy to be taught.

"Poor things," Chiaki says. "Poor things. You've been made to wait all this time. Trapped up there, with all your power, when could have ruled over the weak here on Earth."

Six thousand years of watching would drive almost anyone mad, she supposes.

+++

In another life, Chiaki might have found the Dominions mildly attractive. They look like they belong in one of her old schoolmates' manga magazines, with their slim, girlish limbs and silky blue hair. Yet the Dominion kneeling before her throne is hideous to the eyes that Gozu-Tennoh gave her. He groans each time she turns a page in the book she has severed from him; arching his back to expose the soft, pale flesh of his throat.

Too easy.

"I have been reading your stories. One of them interests me." Chiaki traces the words of Revelation with her index finger. The skin on the Dominion's chest parts along the curve of her touch, exposing muscle and sinew. " 'And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven: Now is come salvation, and strength, and the Kingdom of our God.' "

The Dominion looks away from her, and Chiaki does not look down on him for flushing with shame, or quaking with anger. These are natural elements of the language of submission. With diligence, this weakling will forge his resentment into a glorious weapon.

Blood and shit cake the hem of the Dominion's robes. Two Powers must hold his arms to keep him upright.

"It's not supposed to end like this," the Dominion rasps. "We were told we would fight the fallen. We were promised a war. We were _promised_."

Chiaki nods. It is good answer. She decides that she will allow this one to live on.

"Tell your General I wish to speak with him," she tells the Virtue in the corner. It does not hesitate before flickering out the door.

+++

 

Their duel, when it happens, is less of a formality than Chiaki anticipated. Michael is used to subordinating himself to a force that is beyond every wretch in this vortex. He will not offer her his allegiance unless she proves herself fearsome enough to demand it.

For a day and a night, spear clashes with claw, until the bitter end of things, when Michael is the one who must falter. He is ancient and magnificent, a blur of steel and hunger, but Chiaki is the only being here who has a true Reason for victory. She uses the branch growing out of her shoulder to nail his wings to the tower rooftop. Joyous winds howl encouragement around them while her fingers skim down his chest to re-open new wounds.

"The Book says your God made a prince of the man who overpowered his angel." Chiaki grinds herself down on Michael's hardness. She likes the ache of things tearing inside her and the slickness of blood between her thighs. She likes the angle of his fractured wrist and the mess of her burnt scalp. The smell of sweat and magic comes to Michael honestly. It's so much better than being pawed at by rich little boys in bad cologne.

"God no longer speaks to His servants," Michael gasps. "And Lucifer skulks between worlds."

"Such is their right, if they're strong enough to ignore you."

"_Yes_."

The seraph shudders and bucks up underneath her. Even now Michael is still striving, bruising her hips with the blunt pads of his fingers. Servants of God are not supposed to want this, and neither are well-bred girls; but they are becoming something else, him and her.

Chiaki believes it best not to inform him.

"But you are not so weak, St. Michael," Chiaki murmurs, biting at Michael's collarbone. "The Kingdom of Heaven is not yet beyond your grasp. Let me show you the path."

She rides him until climax descends like a new commandment.

+++

And so Chiaki gathers her Host in the wasteland, and God does not have the words to disapprove.


End file.
